It had been three days since Adam responded to Zoë’s email. Still nothing. He checked his inbox every ten minutes, day and night. Nothing. Zoë just shows up, talks about the kiss, and then doesn’t reply to his email? For a few hours after Zoë’s email, Adam felt the butterflies of anticipation, longing, and excitement that he hadn’t felt since his last weekend with Zoë twelve years earlier. He wanted Zoë in his present, not just as a memory about how a woman is supposed to make you feel. Realizing he only had her old number in Calgary, Adam called directory assistance in Toronto, where Zoë and her husband, John, had moved six months earlier. She was listed. Now, what the hell was he going to say? Be cool, calm, nonchalant, he told himself. Don’t tell her that she’s always been the one even though you haven’t seen her in years. You’ll sound like a psycho.
Taking a deep breath, he dialed and waited.
“The number you have dialed is no longer in service,” replied an automated voice.
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Jen didn’t have to look for Quint. They were running into each other everywhere on campus. Each time was unplanned, yet they both looked forward to the next chance encounter. Intense flirting was crammed into each short meeting. Finally, on their fifth unplanned get-together inside Starbucks, somebody had to say something.
“This is getting a little weird,” Quint smiled.
“What? The fact that a few months ago we had no idea that the other existed, and now we can’t seem to stay apart? It’s quite a mystery. Maybe it’s a sign,” Jen said, dropping a major hint.
“Want to join me for coffee?” Quint asked, catching on.
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